


What's Mine Is Yours

by hpdm4ever, MessiFangirl (hpdm4ever)



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Ficlet, First Kiss, Fluff, Identity Issues, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Relationship Discussions, cressiweek2k17
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2019-01-08 05:19:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12247785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hpdm4ever/pseuds/hpdm4ever, https://archiveofourown.org/users/hpdm4ever/pseuds/MessiFangirl
Summary: Cris feels himself getting sick immediately.He’s always needed to be aware of his body and his health, and the second he feels different, he knows. He starts getting congested, starts having trouble breathing, and his throat begins to feel like it's on fire. It's annoying, to say the least, and he knows it's because he went out hunting in the rain. At the time it had been necessary, and they’d needed the food. He’d not thought twice about setting off despite the weather, not when he’d heard Leo’s stomach grumbling.And it had been worth it to see Leo’s grateful smile.However brief it may have been.





	What's Mine Is Yours

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yulin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yulin/gifts).



> I know day 2 of Cressi week is Identity and not AU, but I'm working on another possible fic for AU day. And while I was writing this one, I kinda thought of it as being about identity so, here you go.
> 
> I'm actually so blown away by the other fics for Cressi week that I'm not sure this is any good in comparison lol, but I'm sharing it anyway. Just a little ficlet.
> 
> Edited to add: It's not really a modern universe, I imagined sort of a primitive one out in the wild or in the woods lol. No houses or electricity, that sort of thing.

Cris feels himself getting sick immediately. 

He’s always needed to be aware of his body and his health, and the second he feels different, he knows. He starts getting congested, starts having trouble breathing, and his throat begins to feel like it's on fire. It's annoying, to say the least, and he knows it's because he went out hunting in the rain. At the time it had been necessary, and they’d needed the food. He’d not thought twice about setting off despite the weather, not when he’d heard Leo’s stomach grumbling. 

And it had been worth it to see Leo’s grateful smile.

However brief it may have been.

They’re not officially mated yet, for many, many reasons, the first of which being that Leo is clearly not ready. As a result, things have been difficult as they try to learn how to live with each other. Most of their interactions have been hellos or goodbyes, or of the two of them having stilted conversations that end up with one or both of them frustrated. 

Leo’s testing his boundaries, testing what kind of alpha Cris is.

Cris is more concerned with day to day things, of Leo’s safety, of other alphas traveling through his territory who might smell Leo.

Leo's outside now. Off in the little nest he's made for himself, in one of the nearby trees, and Cris stares out in that direction wearily. He’d noticed immediately when Leo started making it, when some of their blankets started disappearing, when the stockpile of candles began to dwindle. It would be safer for Leo to stay inside the tent, or go with Cris on hunts. But he’d also noticed how the lines around Leo’s eyes had eased, and how Leo had seemed to be more comfortable.

Cris hadn’t had the heart to stop him, to keep him inside. And so now Leo’s out in his nest. 

Cris can barely keep his eyes open, the fatigue setting in sooner than he ever thought possible. He’s determined to keep watching over Leo--especially when he's feeling so weak. Things might not be the best between them, but Cris still worries. He slumps against the opening of their tent, trying to gain the strength to move. He faintly thinks about letting Leo know he's feeling sick, but dismisses it instantly, not wanting to make Leo feel unsafe.

He never wants Leo to feel unsafe.

Cris coughs a few times, fumbling for the rag in his pocket so he can wipe his nose. Things are starting to get fuzzy now, and he sways a little as he stares outside. And then, he decides, he can't stay there any longer. 

He needs to be closer to Leo, needs to protect him from any possible threats. That, at least, is clear in his mind. 

He steps out of the tent, pulling the opening closed behind him to keep the warmth inside. Leo will have heard him moving, of course, but Cris knows Leo will be able to smell that it's just him. He stumbles across the ground, his body begging him to lie down and rest on the cushy grass... But he keeps going until he's at the base of the tree leading up to Leo's nest. There, right on the ground, he falls to his knees. The ground is damp, and he shivers slightly, but he forces himself to rest his back against the trunk—facing the tent again and making sure he'll see anyone trying to approach their territory.

He doesn't know how long he sits there, but slowly, without meaning to, he falls asleep.

When he wakes up, he thinks he's dreaming. He stares up above him, candles flickering around him and surrounded by filmy fabrics of all colors. Cris blinks curiously as they twinkle in the darkness. He feels warm--so much warmer than he had outside on the ground--and he groans, so utterly content.

Without meaning to, he reaches a hand up to touch one of the candles. His arms are trapped by a thick, homey blanket, and Cris momentarily stills as he realizes it's tucked around his body. He's on some sort of bed, or must be, because there's something fluffy underneath his head, and his body feels like it's floating on air. And then he takes a deep breath, Leo's scent filling his nostrils, and Cris realizes he must be inside of Leo's nest.

Unfortunately the deep breath leads to him letting out a series of rough coughs that wrack his body. He shivers despite the blankets, closing his eyes and trying to catch his breath. "Sleep," a gentle voice says over his head, and warm lips press against his cheek. Cris fights to wake up, because that voice can only be Leo's--that sweet tone one that he could never mistake for another. But everything is too overwhelming.

His last thought as he falls back asleep, is that Leo had finally kissed him.

*****

Cris' mouth is dry when he wakes up, and he licks his lips, feeling incredibly tired. He's no longer shivering, and is comfortably warm--perhaps bordering on feverish. His head is still pounding, and he reaches up to rub at it, groaning at the effort. There's a shushing noise from next to him, and Cris opens his eyes wearily, entirely confused.

At first, he doesn't know where he is. 

The room is bright now, sunshine filtering in through gauzy fabrics stretched over the openings in the walls, and Cris blinks as he tries to recognize his surroundings. But then Leo's head leans over him, and Cris nearly swallows his tongue as he realizes that he's in Leo's nest. He doesn't know how he got there, and he begins to panic, wanting to assure Leo that he'd never encroach on his private space if he'd been in his right mind. But the moment he opens his mouth to speak, he's struck by a coughing fit, and he turns away so as not to breathe on Leo.

There's that shushing again, and when Cris is finally able to catch his breath, he can only watch in shock as Leo presses him down into the covers. 

"You're sick," Leo says softly, and Cris can feel his hand burning through the layers of blankets piled across his body. "Just relax," Leo continues, hand moving up to rest on Cris' forehead. "You're still fighting a fever."

Cris blinks up at him again, that dark head looking ethereal with the sunlight streaming in behind him. "I'm fine," he murmurs, trying not to strain his throat. But his voice is rougher than usual, gravelly, and comes out sounding more like a growl than anything else. "I'm fine," he says, trying again after he clears his throat. 

Leo's hand feels so cool on his forehead, and he can't help but close his eyes and enjoy it. He's been aching to be touched like this for so long, and he knows he probably won't be able to enjoy it much longer. 

“I should go, I have to hunt,” Cris says, opening his eyes again and trying to focus. He flicks his gaze over to the light and tries to judge what time of day it is. 

Or how many days have passed.

“You don’t. We have enough food. And you're not fine,” Leo says quietly, hand stroking down Cris' cheek. "You need to rest." He sits back on his heels, biting his bottom lip. "You weren't yourself last night."

Cris sits up instantly, immediately regretting it as the pain in his head increases. "What do you mean?" he asks frantically. "What did I do?" His heart is nearly beating out of his chest as he tries to recall anything about what he’s done. 

He’s been so careful not to push Leo before he’s ready, and if he’s wrecked all of that…

Leo shakes his head. He presses on Cris' chest again, ignoring the way Cris tries to protest. "Down," he says calmly, waiting until Cris obeys. In some ways it goes against Cris' alpha instincts, but in another, Cris is perfectly happy to please his mate.

Or, the one who will become his mate.

Leo pulls the blankets up over Cris' chest, smoothing them with his hands. "You didn't do anything," Leo finally says, flicking his eyes down to the side. "You kept apologizing over and over, and no matter what I did or said, you seemed unable to understand." 

Cris shifts, still feeling fuzzy. 

Leo sighs. "I'll say it now, now that you're more alert." He turns back to Cris, reaching down to touch his cheek again. "You are welcome up here. You are welcome in my nest.” He says the words slowly and clearly, like he’s said them before many times.

Cris is staring straight up at him, almost certain he has misheard. "But?" he croaks, looking around the space again, not understanding. It's even more beautiful in the daylight, the colored fabrics draped to make little alcoves, while the candles somehow give it a magical feeling. Everywhere there are blankets and scarves, material that look gorgeously soft to the touch, things that would make anyone feel safe and warm. 

And there, in the corner? 

Is that his cloak? 

Cris shakes his head again and returns his gaze to Leo. "It is your space," he says earnestly, clearing his throat again. "I want you to have a spot just for you. I want you to feel protected, in a way that you obviously do not feel around me.” He ignores the flicker of shame that runs through him. “You do not feel at home in our tent, so I wish you to have this for yourself.”

Leo's cheeks turn pink, and he ducks his head as if he's the one who's ashamed. "It is not that I don't feel safe with you--in your tent,” he says, wringing his hands together uncomfortably. He raises his head again, dark eyes finally meeting Cris'. "I feel safe wherever you are," he explains, "but your tent is very... very you."

Cris’ mind is still foggy, and he doesn’t quite understand. “I’m sorry,” he says, apologizing even though he’s not sure what he’s done wrong.

“No,” Leo protests gently, fiddling with the blanket. “Don’t be sorry, it is just—,” he breaks off like he’s not able to explain it. He sighs a little, fingers curling into the soft cloth. “I am not sure how to describe it. It is your tent. I know it is your tent. You have worked hard for this life, and of course, you want things a certain way and I would not want you to have to change anything just because I am here now,” he starts rambling, picking up speed as he goes. “It’s not done, I know that, and you have been very gracious to allow me this spot for myself, and I appreciate it, truly I do.”

Cris stares at him in wonder.

“Many alphas would not be so generous,” Leo adds bitterly, hands still wrapped tightly in the blanket. “I would not be allowed a nest this far from the tent.”

Cris shakes his head. “Leo,” he says, interrupting, somehow fumbling a hand out from underneath the fabric. 

He reaches toward Leo’s wrist, feeling clumsy, but managing to stop right before he touches Leo’s skin. 

“You can have as much space as you want,” Cris says wearily. “Outside, inside, as many tents as you want, as many nests as you want, as many things as you want… What’s mine is yours, and if you want things a different way, you only have to tell me so that I can help you change them.” His head hurts and he drops his hand to rub the bridge of his nose. “Have I given you the impression that you couldn’t do that? I’m—I’m sorry, I’m so tired.”

Leo sits back on his heels. “It’s alright. Forget it. Rest.”

Cris sits up. 

He can’t forget it. 

And it’s not alright.

“I do not care what other alphas do or want,” Cris says, this time reaching for Leo’s hand. He gently touches the palm of Leo’s hand, and then rests his palm on top. “I do not care what other omegas do or want,” he continues, staring down and carefully enfolding Leo’s fingers in his. “I only care what you do, and what you want.”

Leo stays quiet, but he also looks down at their hands and doesn’t pull away.

It’s progress.

“When you are ready,” Cris says, his tone slipping into a growl again, “you make the changes you want to our tent. It was mine, but now it is ours.” He takes a deep breath, feeling overwhelmed with the touch of Leo’s skin, feeling even more feverish simply from being near him. “And when it is your time,” he adds, clearing his throat to try to calm himself, “if you want to, you come to my bed.” 

He keeps his eyes on Leo’s hand, doesn’t look up.

“You come to my bed, and when you do, it will become ours. And I will ease you in your time,” Cris says, breathing in Leo’s scent. It’s utterly sweet, spiking as Cris speaks, and Cris is very careful not to move. “You will become mine, and I will become yours.” He clears his throat again. “But I am patient, Leo,” he says quietly, “I will wait until you are ready. And not before.” 

Cris feels Leo move then, and he lifts his gaze.

Leo has leaned in very close to him, closer than he’s ever been before. 

Cris holds his breath, trying not to stare as Leo’s lashes flutter, busying himself with counting the freckles dotted across Leo’s nose. But Cris knows that Leo is weighing his words, measuring his sincerity, and he can only wait to see if Leo believes him. It is hard to hold himself so still, partially because he feels weak from his fever, and partially because Leo’s scent is still overwhelming.

“Many alphas would not be so generous,” Leo repeats. His voice is level, cautious, perhaps fearful. But then as he stares at Cris, looking into his eyes, and deeper into his soul, Leo’s face changes. His eyes become brighter, and his smile becomes wider. “But you are not any alpha, are you.”

Cris doesn’t know how to react.

Leo gently leans closer and presses his lips to Cris’ cheek. “No, you are not any alpha. But, I think, one day you will be mine.”


End file.
